The ride across town seemed interminable, and then was suddenly over too quickly. They climbed the steps to her apartment slowly and then the stairs to her floor. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as she unlocked each lock. And then finally they were inside and the door was closed and she turned to face him.

She shrugged, palms to the sky, and looked at him helplessly. “Magic?” she asked quietly.

That single word was his undoing. His body slumped forward and the tears he had been holding back all day began to fall. He leaned back against the door, unable to stay upright anymore, and slid to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I wanted to tell you. I was going to tell you. But I didn’t know how. I’ve never told anyone.”

She knelt in front of him, reaching out with her good arm to stroke his cheek. “Why are you so scared, Clark?” she whispered. “I love you. Don’t you know how much I love you?”

“You won’t,” he whispered. “When you know. When you know the truth. Who I am. What I am. You won’t.”

“I know who you are,” she said, her voice soft but clear and strong. “You’re the man who spent five months patiently waiting for me to be ready to give you my heart. You’re the man who reads books with me and watches sappy movies with me and cooks me dinner and dances with me at the corn festival and edits my copy and spars with me about passing routes and quotes poetry to me under the stars.”

She took a breath and sighed. “And you’re the man who pulls little boys from the ocean and babies from the path of oncoming traffic and me from a burning building.”

She shook her head and laughed softly. “You’re the man who flies across the country to buy me flowers and leave me presents on my doorstep.”

He looked up, meeting her gaze for the first time since sitting on the floor. She shrugged, knowing he couldn’t deny it.

“Don’t you know that’s what makes you special?” she asked. “Not just one side of you. But both. Don’t you know that’s why I love you so much?”

He reached for her, pulling her gently into his lap and exhaled shakily. “I was so scared,” he confessed. “I thought I was going to lose you. To him. And then to this. I thought…. I thought….”

He stopped, unable to finish the sentence.

“I love you, Clark,” she said. “I love you. This doesn’t change that. Nothing changes that.”

She laid her head against his shoulder and let him hold her for a while, lying quietly in his arms while he pulled himself together.

“Why don’t we go sit on the couch,” she said eventually. “Why don’t you tell me…. I want to know…more about you.”

“Okay,” he said softly, ready to tell her anything she wanted to know.

He steadied her as she rose from his lap, off balance with one of her arms strapped to her chest. Then he stood and followed her to the couch where they settled in facing each other.

He wanted to tell her. He did. He just had no idea where to start.

“I’ve never done this before,” he confessed. “I’m not sure how to start.”

She smiled at him gently. “It’s okay,” she said. “Maybe…start with what I already know. You’re fast. Really fast.” He nodded. “And strong. Really strong.” He nodded again.

“And…” she hesitated, having a hard time saying it. “And…you can…fly?”

He nodded again. Slowly this time. He took a deep breath and stood. And then closed his eyes and raised himself two feet or so off the ground, just hovering. When he opened his eyes, she was staring, mouth open.

“Wow,” she said. “I knew, but…it’s different seeing it.”

He floated back to the ground, then returned to his seat on the couch.

“I can see things that are really far away or really small. And hear things that are really quiet. And I can….see through things.”

“You x-rayed my wrist,” she whispered. “You told me it wasn’t broken.”

He nodded. “It’s not just…bodies. I can see through walls. Through the ground. Through…anything. Except lead for some reason. But…yeah. Almost anything.”

“Is that everything?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I can…heat things — burn things — with my eyes.”

She looked puzzled by that for a minute, obviously not expecting that. Then her head snapped up. “My coffee!”

He smiled, and nodded, busted.

She laughed. “What other powers have you been using to make magic for me?”

His heart exploded at the sound of her laughter. He hadn’t truly believed until that moment that she was really going to be able to accept him fully. He had expected, somewhere deep down, that she would eventually decide it was too weird. Too much. But here she was, after only a matter of minutes, laughing with delight.

“I don’t think I’ve used any others,” he said. “Mostly the flying. But there are others. I can freeze things with my breath. I can hold my breath for…a long time.”

“Deep sea diving?” she asked, her hand going automatically to her necklace. He nodded again.

“I’m…invulnerable,” he said. “I don’t get hurt. Or injured. Nothing can burn me or cut me. I don’t get sick. I don’t need to eat. I need to sleep, but not nearly as much as you do.”

“Wow,” she said again, clearly still taking this all in.

“I think that’s it,” he said softly. “If I think of anything else, I’ll tell you.”

She held his gaze quietly, and he understood the next question: how?

“I told you before, that I’m adopted?” he said.

She raised an eyebrow and nodded.

“That was…sort of a half truth. My parents really were unable to have children. They did try unsuccessfully to adopt. They did believe…that they would never be parents…until they found me. But when I said they found me…I didn’t mean that they found a birth mother who wanted to place her baby. I meant…they found me…in a field.”

“What?” she said, her voice shocked and agonized. “Someone left you in a field?”

“They didn’t…leave me. They sent me. But in the beginning, all my parents knew was that there was a baby. In a tiny ship. It was the 60s. The Cold War. They assumed for a long time that I was part of an experiment gone wrong. That I was sent up by NASA or the Russians.”

She reached out and put her hand on his knee, listening intently.

“But I wasn’t. Sent up. I was sent down….”

“From the stars,” she whispered.

His heart clenched at the sound of her whispered words. The look of understanding in her eyes.

He nodded. “I was always a strong, healthy kid. I never got sick. I healed fast. My parents used to joke that I came from good stock. But when I was twelve or thirteen…I started to be…really fast. And really strong. There was no experiment we could imagine that would give me that kind of speed. And then…the other powers… We started to understand that I…wasn’t from here at all.”

“You must have been so scared,” she said quietly, her voice unsteady.

He reached over and stroked her cheek, overwhelmed with love for her, overwhelmed by the empathy she obviously felt for him.

“It was scary,” he agreed. “But mostly it was lonely. Not knowing where I came from, or how I got here. Not knowing why I was sent here, or if I even was — wondering if I landed here by accident.”

He hesitated, gathering the courage to admit something he had never told anyone. “It was so lonely…wondering if there was a place out there where I really belonged. I loved my parents. I didn’t want to leave them. But I couldn’t help but wonder where I came from.”

“All those nights studying the stars,” she whispered.

He nodded, a lump forming in his throat as he thought about that night when they laid under the stars and looked at the constellations.

“That night….” she said.

“I almost told you that night,” he said, his voice tight. He shook his head to clear away the emotions, swallowing back the tears. “When you… When you asked me if I thought there was life out there….”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she whispered, pressing a hand to her mouth.

“I was already so in love with you,” he confessed. “When you said…. That was the first time I ever truly believed that you might be able to love me. I was dying to tell you.”

She took a shaky breath and reached out to hold his hand. “I knew you wanted to say something. I never imagined it was that,” she said with a little laugh.

He smiled at her, so unbearably happy.

“What did you think I wanted to say?” he asked, curious about her memory of that night.

She hesitated, then shrugged, obviously a little embarrassed. “I thought you wanted to tell me you loved me.”

“Oh, honey,” he said with a laugh. “I did want to say that too. I absolutely did. I loved you, and I wanted to tell you. But I didn’t think you were ready to hear it yet. I didn’t want to scare you.”

She nodded. “I wasn’t ready. But it felt good to think you were close to saying it. It felt good to believe that you loved me. Or that you could love me.”

He swallowed and then took a shaky breath. “Lois, I spent my whole life thinking I could never have that. That I would be alone forever. That I could have my parents and my friends and a life, but…not love. That no one could ever love me. Not if they knew. And if they didn’t know…they couldn’t really love me. I just thought…it was something I couldn’t have.”

“Oh, Clark,” she whispered, tears in her eyes.

“And that night, when you looked at me like that. When you kissed me like that. And when you told me that you thought there must be life out there, and that life must be just like us. I… That was the best moment of my life to that point. It was the first time I ever believed this was a real possibility.”

She closed her eyes and covered her face with her hand and let out a heartbreaking little sob. He waited, unsure what to do. What to say.

Finally she dropped her hand and lifted her eyes to his. “That’s heartbreaking, Clark. You are… You are the best man I’ve ever met. The sweetest, gentlest, kindest…. You are so deserving of love. And the fact that you thought you could never have that, just because you weren’t born here, just because you’re different….”

She began to cry again, and he reached for her, wrapping his arms around her and stroking her hair.

She sat up after a moment and looked at him, tears still glistening in her eyes. “I love you,” she said. “I love you so much. This doesn’t change that. Not one bit. If anything, I love you more.”

He blinked, sure he misheard that last part.

She laughed softly and scrubbed a hand across her face. “You really don’t know, do you? You have no idea how special you are?”

He looked at her without comprehending. Of course he was unique. He supposed that made him special, though that wasn’t a word he would use.

“Not your powers, Clark,” she said softly. “What you do with them.”

He waited, still not understanding.

She made a soft sound of amused disbelief. “You’re the most powerful person on this planet,” she said softly. “You could do anything you wanted. You could take anything you wanted. No prison could hold you. You could rob any bank. Any museum. You could…force anyone to…”

His face must have betrayed his revulsion, because she stopped talking and nodded, gesturing to him as if he had just proved her point.

“That, Clark. That’s what makes you so special. You have all this power, and you only want to use it to help people.”

“I don’t help people,” he said immediately, his voice agonized. That was a constant source of guilt for him: the thought of all the lives he could save or improve if he was able to use his powers openly.

She threw up her hand in disbelief. “You just saved my life!”

“That was…different. I don’t usually... I never-“

“Those boys at the beach?” she asked.

He nodded slowly, conceding. “They were so far out,” he whispered. “The lifeguards didn’t even see them. I heard them crying. I couldn’t just leave them.”

“Of course not,” she said. “And that baby in the stroller?”

“That was so risky,” he said. “All those people. But that baby…. The mom was totally frozen. I just thought if I moved fast enough maybe no one would notice….”

“So…you never use your powers to help people…except for the four lives you’ve saved since I met you six months ago?”

He shrugged, not sure how to respond.

“Are there others?” she asked. “Those are just the ones I know about. Are there more since you met me?”

He hesitated and then finally nodded. “There was a woman this summer. An armed robbery. I disarmed the guy and waited for the police.”

She nodded quietly and looked at him expectantly.

“And a little boy,” he admitted. “Last month. He was lost in the woods. It was getting cold. He-“

“In Maine?” she said suddenly. “That little boy?”

He nodded. “They were searching in the wrong area. They never would have found him. He was asleep. I just…moved him. Into their path. And waited for them to find him.”

She started to cry quietly, holding her hand to her mouth. He waited, not sure why she was crying or what to do.

“Do you hear yourself?” she asked finally. “Do you even have any idea…. Clark, you have all this power. You could do anything you want. And you’re just…living this sweet, quiet life and sneaking around secretly helping people. You are…. And you thought no one could love you? My god, I love you. I love you so much.”

His heart soared at those words, the way it always did. He reached out and brushed away the tears from her cheeks.

“I just want to help,” he said. “I’m not some sort of hero.”

She laughed skeptically. “Okay. You keep telling yourself that.”

They were quiet for a minute, both of them trying to soak in all this new information. She yawned and then winced, rubbing her forehead.

“I know you probably have a million more questions for me,” he said gently. “And I will answer every single one. I promise. But it’s so late. And you’re so tired. We can pick this back up in the morning….”

She hesitated, and then nodded. “I need a shower,” she said. “I smell like smoke and hospital.” She made a face and shuddered.

Clark laughed. He reeked of smoke too, and was looking forward to a hot shower and clean clothes.

He froze.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Lois, I can’t leave you again. Please don’t make me-”

She silenced him with a hand on his leg and a shake of her head. “I don’t want you to leave,” she said. “I’m sorry, Clark. I’m so sorry I didn’t listen to you. I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you. You were right about the gunshots. It wasn’t a car backfiring. Luthor told me his accomplice was supposed to shoot me. He was furious that he missed.”

Clark hesitated, unsure whether he should correct her.

“What?” she asked, always able to read him so easily. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“He didn’t miss,” Clark said quietly. “I caught the bullets.”

Her face went white. “Oh my god,” she said quietly. “That’s what was in your hands? The bullets?”

He nodded. “I should have shown them to you. I was in shock. I panicked. I’ve never done that before. Caught bullets like that. And I’ve spent twenty years hiding the evidence of what I can do. I just…crushed them.”

“You caught bullets, and then you crushed them. With your bare hands.” Her voice was shaky and distant. She wasn’t really asking him a question — just processing. Her eyes met his again and she shook her head forlornly. “I’m so sorry. You were just trying to keep me safe. I should have listened to you.”

“I love you,” he said simply.

“I love you too,” she said. She reached out and stroked his cheek, smiling gently. “Let’s get cleaned up and go to bed. I’m exhausted. And I want you to hold me.”

He nodded enthusiastically. There was nothing in the world he wanted more than to hold her.

Suddenly he realized he had nothing to change into. He needed clean clothes and a toothbrush and other necessities. He wasn’t leaving her again until Luthor was found, one way or another. He could buy some things tomorrow, but he had nothing at all for tonight.

He hummed nervously, realizing what he was going to have to do.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I need to go get some things,” he said. “Clothes. Pajamas. I don’t have anything here.”

“Go get- From your house?” she asked, wide-eyed.

He nodded. “It’ll only take..ten minutes? I just need to grab a few basics at least. But….”

His stomach roiled at the thought of leaving her unprotected even for that long. He shook his head, frustrated.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, and then she seemed to understand. “I’ll be okay. I’m fine.”

“Can you just…” he hesitated, not wanting to be overbearing, but sick with worry.

“What, Clark?”

“Keep the door locked. Stay away from the window. Just…. I don’t know. I’m being paranoid, but…”

She nodded. “I’ll stay right here. On the couch. I won’t go anywhere. I won’t answer the door or the phone or…. I’ll wait right here.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I promise I won’t always be so….”

“It’s been a really scary few days,” she said softly. “I understand.”

He leaned forward and kissed her. “Thank you.”

He looked around the room, trying to decide the best way to do this. Finally, he walked to the window and opened it, then turned back and walked around the room, turning off all the lights, just in case a neighbor had a view of her living room.

“I’m going to go fast,” he warned her. “Leave the window cracked, so I can come back in fast. I don’t want your neighbors to see anything.”

She nodded eyes wide. His body hummed with nervous tension. Every instinct he had screamed at him not to do this. Not to use his powers so blatantly in front of someone. But he shut out those voices and focused on her instead. She was smiling at him encouragingly now.

“Go, Clark,” she said softly. “Go, so you can come back to me.”

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you too.”

And then he was gone. Out the window in a blur, up above the clouds in the inky blackness of night, and out of the city. He flew as fast as he ever had, faster, completely focused on returning to her as quickly as possible.

He rocketed into his back yard and then through the door he had left unlocked earlier that day when he had rushed at full speed in the other direction. He flew up the steps and into his bedroom, grabbing the same duffle bag he had brought home yesterday. It still lay where he had dropped it on his bed. He dumped out the contents and threw his running shoes back in the duffle, and he then began opening and closing the drawers of his dresser, grabbing items at random and shoving them in his bag. He tried to slow himself down long enough to make sure he had all the essentials. He was not making this trip again. Not until Luthor was in prison or dead.

He threw the toiletries bag from the pile on his bed in with the rest of his clothes and zipped the bag, then took off, back down the stairs and out the back door, into the Kansas sky.

As he hurtled back toward Metropolis, he tried to stay calm. Logically he knew she was fine, safe. But he needed to see it himself.

Her apartment building came into view, the window still open just as he had left it. He stopped abruptly in the middle of her living room and righted himself. He hovered there for a few seconds, her curtains fluttering in the breeze.

She looked from him to her watch and then back to him. “Six minutes and forty-two seconds,” she said softly.

He dropped to the ground, and stood there watching her.

“You flew all the way to Kansas, packed a bag, and flew back in six minutes and forty-two seconds.”

“It’s…been a while since I timed myself,” he said with an awkward smile. “I don’t usually fly that fast. I was…motivated.”

“I have…so many questions,” she said with a little laugh.

He laughed too, a real laugh, for the first time in days. “I’m sure you do,” he said.

“But first…a shower,” she said. She stood and walked to the bedroom. He followed, setting his bag on the bed and opening it as she gathered her pajamas and headed to the bathroom. He sorted through the contents, curious to see what he had wound up packing. It looked…sufficient.

He pulled out a pair of sleep shorts and set them aside, then arranged the contents of the bag a bit more neatly. He was zipping the bag when he heard her say his name.

She wasn’t yelling, but she was calling for him. At a normal speaking voice, or maybe something closer to a whisper. She said his name again, tentatively, and he smiled. She was testing him, he realized.

He walked across the hall and opened the door just a crack, the steam wafting out to meet him.

“Are you calling me?” he asked.

She giggled, and his heart flip flopped.

“Yeah,” she said. “You really heard that?”

“I can hear your heartbeat from outside your building,” he said.

She was quiet for a second. “Wow,” she said finally.

“Were you just testing me or do you need something?” he asked with a smile.

“Can you…help me wash my hair?” she asked timidly. “I can’t figure out how to do it with one arm.”

“Of course,” he said quickly. “I’m sorry. I should have thought about that.”

“I didn’t think about it, either,” she said. “You don’t realize all the things you use two hands for until you only have one that’s working properly.”

He entered the bathroom and shut the door behind him. He was still dressed in the dress shirt and tie that he had worn to work that morning, though that felt like weeks ago. He unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them up as he walked to the shower.

She pulled the curtain back so he could reach in. There was shampoo in her hair, but just clumped in one spot. He reached in and started to smooth it through the rest of her hair, being careful not to get too close to her cut. It was an awkward angle, and he was nervous that he would hurt her.

“Hold on,” he said. “Let me…”

He turned, trying to reach her better and accidentally pulled the curtain out of the tub, dripping water all over the floor and his pant leg.

“Oh, shoot,” he said. “Sorry. Um, just a second.”

He pulled the curtain back into the tub, and made sure it was keeping the water where it belonged. When he looked back up, she had turned to face him.

“Can you just…come in with me?” she asked tentatively. “I think it will be easier.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Of course.”

He stepped back and closed the curtain. He wiped his hand on his pant leg, and then quickly stripped off his clothes, and set his glasses on the counter. He pushed aside the nerves that suddenly fluttered in his stomach at the prospect of being naked in front of her. It wasn’t the first time, obviously, but it was different somehow when it wasn’t a moment of passion.

He pulled back the curtain and stepped into the shower. She was facing the spray, and he rested a hand on her shoulder gently, so she would know he was there.

“Let’s try this again,” he said. “Tilt your head back.”

She did, and he worked his fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp and working up a lather. She inhaled deeply and then sighed.

“That feels so good,” she said softly.

He smiled and continued massaging, working his way down to the nape of her neck. “I’m going to wash by your hairline,” he said. “I’ll be gentle, but if it hurts at all, just tell me, and I'll stop.”

She made an agreeable humming noise and tilted her head back up. He worked the area carefully, not wanting to put pressure near her cut. When he was finished, she rinsed her hair and he repeated the process with conditioner.

She turned to face the spray again, and he let his gaze drift down her back, watching the water roll down her body. Her wrists and ankles were red and raw from chafing against the bindings, and large, unexplained bruises were beginning to darken on her left hip and arm. So much of her day was missing, thanks to the drug that knocked her unconscious, that they might never know everything her body had been through. Given the placement of the bruises along the side of her body with the sprained wrist and head wound, Clark could only assume she had taken a hard fall, possibly when she was drugged initially in the alley or perhaps when Luthor was trying to wrestle her into the sewer.

His hand reached out of its own volition, and he trailed a finger gently over the mottled skin of her shoulder and arm. She turned her head and looked at him over her shoulder, her surprise morphing to tenderness as she saw the look on his face.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t faster. I looked everywhere. I was looking and looking.”

“Clark,” she whispered, shaking her head. “You saved me. No one else found me. Only you.”

He dropped his chin to his chest and took a ragged breath, trying not to imagine the alternative.

He felt her hand on his cheek, and looked up to see her gazing at him with tears in her eyes.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I don’t think I even said that. It doesn’t feel like…enough to say. But…thank you.”

He let out a pitiful, mewl of a cry and choked back tears for the hundredth time that day. “I was so scared,” he confessed quietly.

“I know,” she said. “I…. When you showed up. I thought we were both going to die. I didn’t understand how you got in, but I was sure there was no way out. And having you there…. It was a million times worse than when I was alone. I cared so much more about your life, and your safety, than my own.”

He nodded, knowing she understood. Knowing he didn’t have to tell her that he would have traded his life for hers in a heartbeat. Knowing she understood how consuming and sickening his fear had been.

She stepped forward and laid her head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and closed his eyes, savoring this moment. She was alive and well and safe in his arms. She was soft and beautiful and naked in his arms. She loved him. She trusted him. She knew everything about him and she still wanted this life, this future with him.

She lifted her head to look at him, and he ran the back of his fingers over her cheek, sighing contentedly as she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. When her eyelids fluttered open again, she looked at him with such unabashed love it stole his breath. He tipped his head and kissed her gently. Then she laid her head back on his chest for a minute and sighed softly.

“I know you’re exhausted,” he said softly. It had to be nearing four in the morning. “Let me finish showering and we’ll go to bed. I just want to hold you.”

She nodded against his chest, but made no attempt to move. He thought for a minute he was going to have to prompt her again, but finally she stepped back. “Trade places with me, and you can wash your hair,” she said.

He put his hands on her waist and steadied her, shifting positions so he was under the spray. His bag of toiletries was still on the bed, so he used her shampoo and body wash, cleaning himself quickly so she wouldn’t grow cold.

When they were dry and dressed for bed, and she had replaced the splint on her wrist, she attempted to blow dry her hair, and he watched her fumble for just a second with the blow dryer and hairbrush before resting a hand on her arm to stop her. He reached for the blow dryer and she smiled at him as she handed it over.

He moved behind her and lifted the blow dryer, then stopped, reconsidering. He set it back on the bathroom counter, and waited until her eyes met his questioningly in the mirror. He held up both hands, asking her silently to wait and give him a minute. Then he focused a low but steady beam of heat on her hair, sweeping it from her scalp down to the tips.

She gasped and raised a hand to her hair, which was no longer soaked through but only a little damp. “Did you just…?”

He smiled shyly, still nervous about using his powers in front of her, let alone on her.

The incredulous look on her face morphed into a pleased giggle. “Well, that’s awfully handy.”

He laughed, the tension in his belly dissipating instantly. He reached out and took the hairbrush from her, pulling it gently through her hair and smiling as she closed her eyes and sighed happily. He gave her hair another, quicker pass with his heat vision and then continued brushing until her eyes fluttered open and found his in the mirror again.

He set the brush on the counter and kissed her on the cheek. She smiled and turned to face him, and he took the opportunity to remove the soggy bandage on her forehead, smoothing on the antibiotic ointment and replacing it with a clean, dry bandage. When he was done, she snuggled against his chest, her eyes fluttering shut. They were both half asleep on their feet, and after just a minute they managed to brush their teeth and finish getting ready for bed.

In the bedroom at last, he crawled under the covers and opened his arms to her. She smiled and came to him eagerly, resting her cheek against his bare chest and her hand on his arm. He reached over the night stand and clicked off the lamp, leaving them in a peaceful darkness. He could feel her chest rising and falling steadily, the tips of her fingers drawing random patterns against his arm. He had been so sure earlier that he would never feel this again. He was quiet, memorizing every sound, every sensation.

“I love you so much,” he whispered.

“I love you too,” she echoed, then sighed peacefully.

He wanted to stay awake all night, listening to her breathe, feeling her skin against his. But he could feel the adrenaline seeping out of his body after the most stressful day of his life. And last night he hadn’t so much as closed his eyes, sitting instead on the bench across from her apartment watching carefully in a futile attempt to protect her. The exhaustion was overwhelming, and her warm, soft body made the thought of sleep so appealing.

The smell of soot and antiseptic that had clung to them for hours was gone now, replaced by soap and roses and the familiar scent that was simply her. He breathed her in and listened to the beat of her heart and slid his hand under the hem of her tank top to rub the soft skin of her back. He bathed in her presence, soaking up her love as he drifted peacefully to sleep.


Being a reporter is as much a diagnosis as a job description. ~Anna Quindlen